


Business and pleasure

by Nival_Vixen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF James Bond, BAMF Q, Bond is a menace, Codes & Ciphers, Complete, Crack, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, MI6 Agents, Moneypenny is perfection, Q Branch, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Spies & Secret Agents, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: Bond thinks that Q is working too hard on their honeymoon.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeyf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyf/gifts).



> Thanks to honeyf for the lovely and inspiring artwork!  
> Thanks to Chestnut for being an awesome mod <3

[](http://s174.photobucket.com/user/honeyflys/media/HONEYF/Pictures/00q-bali-honeyf.jpg.html)

 

"Must you work now, dear? We're on our honeymoon," Bond murmured, grinning.

 

Q looked away from his laptop after a few more taps on the keyboard, his own reflection clear in Bond's sunglasses. "You know very well that I _must_ work now. _Dear_ ," he added as an afterthought. "And I'll thank you to get your hand _out_ of my shorts."

 

Bond hummed a little, his fingertips brushing against Q's skin, just under the hem of his shorts. Still, he was nothing but a gentleman - a cold, heartless one, some might say, but that was neither here nor there - and James moved his hands back to his side a moment later. Q had returned his gaze to his laptop screen, moving it up slightly to rest on James' chest even more. Bond wondered what would happen if he just so happened to tilt the hammock slightly.

 

"Don't you _dare_ move, Bond."

 

Behind his glasses, Bond's eyebrows arched in surprise. _He wasn't_ ** _that_** _easy to read, surely? Or perhaps Q had something on his computer to read his thoughts?_ Well, he never did know with Q, the man was full of surprises, and if telepathic computers were a possibility, he would expect it to come from Q Branch or Q himself.

 

"Of course not, dear. Wouldn't dream of it," he replied airily, probably a moment too late.

 

_Ah well, he could blame it on the tropical heat_.

 

When Bond had discovered this small, secluded paradise just on the outskirts of their hotel, he had hardly been able to believe his luck in finding it empty during tourist season. Now he could understand why. The tropical heat was muggy and humid, making him sweat despite the fact he was wearing as little as possible while still being socially acceptable in public, the hammock was itchy under the sweat that formed at the base of his spine, and the plants around them had become damp and blocked the small breeze he could see ruffling Q's hair.

 

Bond lifted a hand to wipe at a trail of sweat that had begun its descent on Q's face, his thumb stroking it away gently.

 

"Bond," Q said, the word full of warning, his eyes barely flicking away from his screen.

 

"You work far too much, dearest Q; you should be enjoying our honeymoon."

 

"I'd enjoy it if we hadn't spent almost six hours on a blasted plane, then had the layover from Hell."

 

"Ah yes, that's sure to dampen some of the romance. But at least we were together," Bond replied, trying to look innocent and appealing at the same time.

 

Q's eyebrows almost hit his hair, so he doubted he achieved his goal.

 

"Well, I suppose there is that. There's far less chance of you sneaking away if I'm practically sitting on top of you," Q muttered.

 

"Practically? And what do you call this?" Bond asked, indicating to Q's seated position on his lap.

 

"A very annoying and talkative seat that swings far too much. Please stop; it's difficult to get any work done."

 

Once more, Bond forced himself to stop swinging the hammock, even subconsciously. Q repositioned the laptop once more and continued to work, his fingers a flurry across the keyboard. Bond let the tapping noise wash over him, the heat and Q's weight on top of him lulling him into a light doze. He was shaken abruptly what felt like mere seconds later, and Bond almost tipped the hammock over entirely. Q looked down at him, eyebrow raised again.

 

"What? What is it?" Bond asked, alert and trying to calm himself, tell himself that there was no danger present. _Not yet, at least._

 

"The mark's on the move. Come on, _dear_ ," Q quipped, grinning at him.

 

Well, the honeymoon phase was nice while it lasted, but it looked like it was time to get back to work.

 

...

Q had a very good idea of the kind of work Bond did; after all, he was the one in his ear for every mission, guiding him, and telling him where and when to point and pull the trigger. (Whether Bond actually did as he was told was another matter all together.) Usually, this meant that Q was safe behind his screens with a cup of tea available nearby.

 

This godawful mission required him to actually be present as Bond didn't have the ability to read the code that was being passed between their mark and the mark's client, and without the ability to read it, there was no possible way that Bond would be able to re-write the code on the fly to include a bug, and due to technological limitations being as they were, Q couldn't re-write the code from HQ either. He had to be far too close to the mark's laptop in order to send the bug wirelessly, working on destroying the code before it even finished loading properly.

 

In no way, shape, or form, did Q see why it had been necessary for his and Bond's cover story to be that they were newlyweds. Bond had smirked at him when the two rings were revealed in plain black velvet boxes. Q had attempted to scowl back at him, but was caught up in the beauty of the simple silver bands; while he'd designed them himself three months ago for 006's mission with 003, it was still breathtaking to remember the amount of detail and finesse that had been involved in creating the rings. Simple though they were on the outside, the inner workings included biometrics scanning, GPS positioning, and if twisted in the right combination, could actually explode. Hopefully, _without_ the agent's finger attached.

 

Q hadn't had a chance to argue their cover before Bond had collected the rings and slipped one on his finger, turning those blue eyes on him, the very ones that made both men and women weak at the knees. Q was simply grateful that he had been seated already, so he'd never have to discover if those eyes worked on him as well. (He was positive they did, but Q knew that it would mean the death of all his future gadgets and technologies if he ever admitted it, especially to Bond himself.)

 

Of course, Moneypenny had laughed the moment she saw the ring and realised what he and Bond were doing. She was the only one who knew of Q's crush on Bond, and he'd preferred that it stayed that way. Despite that, Q had still blushed furiously at her laughter, which in turn, had only made Eve laugh harder. Finally, the threat of returning her Christmas present to the store made her sober up; Q might not have the world's best social skills, but his present-choosing ability (thanks in part to his attention to detail) was par for none. Even M hadn't returned his Christmas presents, and she was notorious for it, even asking her Secret Santa's to provide receipts with their gifts. Eve had slipped a note into Q's pocket when Bond wasn't looking and then sent them on their way.

 

If Q had known just how insufferable Bond would be on their mission - somehow, it was possible for him to be even _more_ insufferable than he usually was - Q would have refused the job entirely. Well, he didn't have a choice, really: a mortgage, three cats to feed, and of course, everything in his contract regarding Queen and country meant he had to do the work that was required of him, but maybe he could've pushed for R or V to go with Bond instead. Besides, Q found that he never seemed to do the actual job required of him if Bond was involved. His job became so much more, focused solely on the agent on his screens. Or in this case, underneath him.

 

The moment they left MI6, Bond had slipped into his alter-ego, opening doors for Q, touching Q's hands at random intervals, stroking the back of his palm here, threading their fingers together there, and even worse, he was _smiling_ at Q. The smile was always accompanied by amusement in some way, as if the 00-agent was just _waiting_ for Q to crack under the pressure. Well, Q wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

 

It had worsened the longer they were together. They'd gone straight to the airport, and ... dear God, just thinking about the airport was enough to distract Q for a moment. Bond had charmed not only the lady behind their desk as she checked them in, but the woman and man on her side, and several other passengers waiting in line behind them. He'd come up with an elaborate story as to how Q had proposed to Bond by the London Eye, had designed the rings himself, and was now whisking them away for a tropical honeymoon, even though he desperately hated flying. None of that had been in their mission file and while some truths were interspersed with the lies, Q hadn't known what to say in response. Bond had turned to smile at him, blue eyes bright, and had kissed the back of his hand, stating that his new husband was terribly shy. Q's blush was proof of that, and he was almost positive he'd still been red when they boarded their flight almost an hour later.

 

Q had to admit that Bond's touch had been a welcome reprieve from the turbulence and the way his stomach dropped every time the plane descended or ascended. He'd kept his eyes squeezed shut for most of the flight, his hands gripping the seat's armrests with bone-white fingers. Bond had covered his hand with his own, squeezing gently to reassure him each time it happened. Bond's actions went a long way with the stewards and stewardesses, offering sympathy, pillows, and hot towels nearly every time they passed. Bond accepted most of their offers and Q had ended up with a small nest around his seat. When Q had to open his eyes for the in-flight meal, he'd been surrounded by three pillows, two blankets, and had at least four hot towels resting on his tray table. Q turned to Bond with a querying look. In response, Bond had just looked utterly amused at his predicament, close to laughing at the sight of the Quartermaster covered in a random assortment of items.

 

_Insufferable bastard_. Q had no idea why he liked Bond, really.

 

Bond finally excused himself to go to the bathroom and Q had a moment of peace to look at Moneypenny's note.

 

_I've got 2 bags of jelly babies riding on you riding him in this mission. Take one for the team._

 

Q obviously needed to get better friends; ones who were less invested in his love affairs and the work's gambling pool. (Somehow M had no idea about the pool even though Moneypenny was the one who ran the damn thing. Of course, gambling at work - _much less MI-bloody-6_ \- wasn't exactly legal, hence the jelly babies rather than actual currency. Q doubted that it would hold up in court, but no one else seemed perturbed by it. Most of them shared the lollies and sweets anyway. Tanner hoarded his, of course.)

 

The hotel was nice enough, and whoever had booked the room for them obviously had a sense of humour because they'd been given the honeymoon suite. (Now that Q actually thought about it, he realised that no one in Finance actually _had_ a sense of humour, so that meant Moneypenny had probably organised it with them. He might just return her Christmas gift, after all.) For all of the niceties of the suite, Q had been horrified to discover that their kitchenette only had _Lipton tea_ in stock.

 

Bond had blinked at his outrage, looking amused, but had graciously agreed to go to a local store to buy proper tea for his newlywed husband. Bond had returned within twenty minutes with Q's _Twinings_ Earl Grey tea and three new weapons.

 

They'd been in and out of the hotel numerous times over the past week, acting like tourists and newlyweds despite the awful tropical heat. Bond had taken Q out to restaurants and even a museum, and if it wasn't for the fact that Q and Bond were following their target on Q's mobile app (specially designed so he didn't have to take his laptop everywhere, even though he still did exactly that; there was no way on Earth that Q was leaving his laptop alone and vulnerable in the hotel), it might almost have been romantic.

 

In fact, if Q wasn't sure that they were after a target, he might have convinced himself that this was all real. Bond couldn't act like this for a full week straight without even a break, could he? Even actors needed time to themselves, and he'd seen deep cover operatives who even gave themselves a few minutes' reprieve, but Bond was always looking to him, always touching him, always preparing his tea just the way he liked it (to be fair, it wasn't hard since he had his black, but when made by Bond, it still felt like _something_ ). Q needed to escape to the bathroom several times over the course of the week just to breathe.

 

Bond's pleasant attitude definitely wasn't helping his unfortunate crush on the man, either. The museum had seen the return of Bond's somewhat snarky side, but Q had spent most of his time trying his hardest not to burst a lung laughing at Bond's comments about the paintings, the people around them, their target who was wandering the floor aimlessly and not even noticing the fact that they were being followed. That definitely hadn't helped Q either.

 

Q had stopped jerking away in surprise when Bond brushed a kiss to his cheek, tantalisingly close to his mouth, trying more now not to lean into the kiss. He forcefully reminded himself that it was just for show. Even if Bond did the same action when they were alone, it didn't mean anything.

 

...

They'd finally received confirmation that the mark was selling the code today, which was the only reason Bond suffered the heat and humidity with as little complaint as he had. He'd much prefer to be cooling off indoors; hell, even London's weather was nicer in comparison.

 

Bond kept his eye on the target as he and Q moved through the hotel's gardens and out into the main street. Noise seemed to assault them both all at once and he instinctively grabbed for Q's hand, just as he had nearly every other day they'd been out and about. Q only glanced to their hands before continuing on.

 

Their mark headed into a market, surprisingly full for the heat of the day. Q went to follow after him, but Bond tugged on his hand and continued down the street to the next entrance for the market. Behind them, two men followed their mark into the market; either they were watching out for the mark, or intended to kill them for their code. In Bond's experience, it was rarely the former of the two.

 

They used the building's second entrance, coming out almost parallel to their mark. Bond looked for the two men following and saw them quickly enough. They were following the mark at a fast speed now and it was any wonder that the mark didn't know they were there.

 

_Bloody idiot,_ James thought, just as the mark finally cottoned on to the fact that they were being followed and started to run, pushing people out of the way.

 

"Shit," James cursed, looking between the two men and their mark. "I'll deal with them, you follow the mark." Before Q could say anything else, Bond tugged him close and kissed his mouth. It was a chaste kiss, probably the most innocent kiss Q had ever received from anyone before, but it still left him reeling. Bond grinned at him, blue eyes _twinkling_ , and pushed him in the direction of their mark. "Go on then, Quartermaster."

 

_Bloody insufferable bastard_ , Q thought to himself, holding his bag close and following after their mark so he could do his job. Then, when they were together again and recovering (preferably in the hotel with air conditioning and a nice cup of tea), Q would have _James bloody Bond, 007_ , explain what the _hell_ that was all about. If his explanation led them to the bedroom, well... Moneypenny always saved some jelly babies for him anyway.

 

...

 

Eve knew enough about Q and Bond that she held no doubts as to what would happen on their mission. Put Q in front of a computer and he was one of the smartest men Eve knew, and on the same scope, Bond could be considered smart when he had a target or mission in mind. With real people and actual emotions, however, they could be utterly clueless, and Eve was not only sick of the pining and unresolved sexual tension, she had a heft sum of jelly babies to win.

 

Besides all that, Bond was _always_ one to mix business and pleasure, no matter what 003 loudly proclaimed; usually how his own series of failed relationships across half of Europe and Asia were far better than Bond's sordid one-night stands. In fact, the only reason 003 had been passed over for this mission himself was because he'd slept with - and subsequently left - too many people in Singapore. Well, that and the fact that Bond might've just stolen Q away and be done with the mission before anyone noticed.

 

Eve knew that Q would probably have issue with him being the _pleasure_ part of Bond's business time around, but Bond was nothing but persistent. There would be love confessions, or something similar enough to feelings for Bond at least, and eventually, they'd both realise that they'd been absolute _knobs_ about everything, and they should always listen to Eve.

 

Of course, they'd focus to complete their mission - they were both fiercely loyal (some might say stubborn, and Eve would agree with them for the most part) and even the promise of each other wouldn't stop them from doing their jobs - but from then on, all bets were off.

 

And speaking of bets... Eve had collected her bags of jelly babies before Bond and Q had even finished their briefing; the virus Q had inserted into the code had subsequently destroyed the code before their mark had even finished receiving the money in their bank account. Q had done it on the fly while Bond was in the background beating up one bad guy after another as Q had muttered about needing just a bit more time, _just a little more time_ , and then had siphoned their mark's newly increased bank account along with everything else.

 

M wouldn't be too pleased about _that_ part of it initially, but with the Finance department's wrangling of the so-called 'donation', it would ensure that MI6 wouldn't be left high and dry if any of their legal backers decided to pull the plug, as it were. M might even consider sending Q out into the field again. (Eve had a sneaking suspicion that Q had kept some of the money for himself, but she wouldn't be the one to tell M that. Not when she was still waiting on her Christmas present, at least.)

 

She raised her eyebrows with a knowing grin when Q left M's office with Bond hardly a step behind him. Q's ears went a lovely shade of pink, and Eve smothered her laugh by taking up another jelly baby.

 

"Thanks for the note, Eve love," Bond murmured in her ear, swiping a green jelly baby as he passed by.

 

_He's a romantic, you dolt, so act like it_.

 

Eve was smart on her own merits and was one hell of a good spy; she hadn't been partnered with Bond - one of MI6's most successful agents - for no reason, after all. Q hadn't even noticed the slip of paper she'd given to Bond, but then, Bond hadn't noticed Q's either. She grinned when she saw Bond curl a hand around Q's and then proudly present his weapon with a flourish; it was probably the first time in years that one of his weapons had been returned in one piece.

 

Q's pleased smile slipped half a heartbeat later. "That doesn't even belong to MI6, Bond!"

 

Eve almost choked to death laughing on a red jelly baby.

 

Eight months later, Q presented Bond with another wedding ring, and this time it wasn't a cover story. Eve ignored 003's moaning and griping, and promptly collected her winnings; at this rate, she'd be set for jelly babies for life. _Later in the day, Q sent her an email with a simple message: _you're welcome. Save me some green ones.__

...

 

The end.

 

Thanks for reading!


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